


Peroration

by MooseKababs



Series: Deja Vu [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Found Family, Gen, M/M, just the fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:08:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22824640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseKababs/pseuds/MooseKababs
Summary: After waking up from stasis on Cybertron, Breakdown's life somehow takes a drastic turn for the best.
Relationships: Breakdown/Knock Out
Series: Deja Vu [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640884
Comments: 16
Kudos: 87





	Peroration

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this was supposed to be longer, but it's been a year since i finished posting Deja Vu (or around that long, anyway) and I honestly just struggled with this way too much. So I cut it short in interest of at least getting SOMETHING out after promising I would do a follow up. It was never intended to be more than a handful of oneshots, anyway. Just some nice fluff to make up for how dramatic DV is. Anyway, thanks for reading! Please enjoy!
> 
> (also, last minute change, I don't even think I'm gonna put *proper chapters* in this. RIP to everyone expecting something professional i am just very lazy)
> 
> (also also, this isn't beta'd. Once again, RIP.)

* * *

I

* * *

Predictably, it was hard for Breakdown to adjust to the new normal; The first few days after Knockout had guided him home through Upper Kaon’s glimmering cityscape had been particularly taxing for him. Life here seemed to be different than what he was used to in so many ways that he had trouble expressing just how disorienting the change was.

For starters, everything was peaceful.

Breakdown had never truly known  _ peace, _ had never gotten to experience  _ guaranteed safety.  _

In the mines, at the saloon, and then from the time he had joined the Decepticons until he had reunited with Knock Out on Gethova, he had only been as safe as he was  _ useful.  _ Things had changed as he and Knock Out had grown closer but the seeker had fared little better in terms of security, relying on favors and fortune to protect himself more often than not. In some ways that protection had covered Breakdown as well, but in reality they had both known that Knock Out’s social estate paid little more than lip service to the benefit of their well-being. 

Even when he and Knock Out had eventually been stranded on Earth, they had always needed to stay aware of their surroundings so they wouldn’t be seen by humans. He could not honestly think of a time where he had been given the opportunity to truly relax. 

Knock Out could tell that the transition was taking its toll on Breakdown, and he could understand why. While Knock Out had been present to experience the changes around them in a gradual manner, Breakdown had merely woken up to the near utopian changes around him. From his perspective it had only been a matter of days since he had last been awake, sent by Megatron to exterminate Airachnid. 

Trying to reconcile the sudden, nearly  _ violent _ life change was no easy task, but he did his best— and as time went on it became easier to handle. Breakdown’s confused glances and bouts of pacing died out, leaving only the observant curiosity that Knock Out knew and loved behind. It was an easy thing to help the big mech learn how to operate in the new paradigm, because Breakdown’s presence turned any task from an obligation into a pleasure the same way it always did. 

With patience and persistence things settled, and Breakdown began to feel safer as they did. He began to sleep easier, no longer jerking awake every few hours with the all-consuming need to patrol their surroundings. After a few weeks, Knock Out only had to snuggle closer to the big mech to coax him back to sleep, his presence enough of a reassurance that Breakdown felt content to continue charging. 

Of course, it was during one of those rare nights where Breakdown was sleeping soundly— curled around the medic under a pile of blankets, his engine purring in contentment— that Knock Out got the call. 

His comm chirped out a tone that was entirely too cheery for the early hour, yanking the red mech from his hazy contentment. He jolted, reaching up to accept the call almost automatically. Beside him— and under him— Breakdown startled as well, pushing himself up on his arms and glancing around vigilantly. Knock Out patted him reassuringly as the comm connected, offering the big mech an apologetic smile as he scooted to the edge of the berth and stood up. 

_ ::Hello?::  _ He asked as he rounded the bed and made his way to the door. 

_ :: Woah, you sound terrible.::  _ someone on the other side of the line said. It was followed almost immediately by a clang, and then a grumble from the speaker. 

_ ::Dude, what the pit!::  _ Another, more familiar voice admonished harshly. Knock Out squinted in the darkness, navigating his way down the hall to the living room with an ease born of practice.  _ ::Sorry, Knock Out. He meant to ask if you’re alright.:: _

_ ::I’m fine,::  _ Knock Out assured as he sat down and transferred the call to the big vid screen mounted to the wall across from the couch, dialing up the light of the room internally at the same time. The screen flickered to life, displaying a video feed of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe in crisp high definition. “It’s just a bit late here is all.”

“No kidding.” Sideswipe said, clearly scanning Knock Out’s surroundings as best he could. Beside him, Sunstreaker frowned.

“Did we wake you?” The golden mech asked, concern in his voice. Knock Out waved a hand as he draped a blanket over his legs and snuggled back into the plush cushions of the couch, making himself comfortable.

“Yes, but it’s no problem.” He assured with an almost flippant tone to his voice. “I can go back to sleep once we’ve spoken.”

“Are you sure?” Sunstreaker prompted, glancing behind himself. Wherever they were— somewhere on Earth, obviously— the sky was blue and the sun was shining brightly, the birds that perched in the trees around them chirping and singing in the way only truly carefree creatures could. 

“Of course.” Knock Out said, nodding. “How are things going down there?”

“Pretty alright,” Sideswipe said, cocksure as ever. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his helm, affecting a look of nonchalance. “We’ve been kicking aft, taking names… You know. The usual.”

Knock Out smiled. “ I expected as much. After all, it is  _ you two  _ we’re talking about.”

The twins exchanged grins, a wholly heartwarming sight to Knock Out’s optics. 

“Bee’s been showing us around.” Sunstreaker explained earnestly. “The ‘cons have been pretty quiet so we’ve been following the map you made while you were here.”

“Yeah?” Knock Out said, smiling; it gratified him to know that the two had more than just a passing interest in Knock Out’s life. “How are you finding it?”

“ _ Dirty.”  _ Sunstreaker said without hesitation, grimacing. Beside him, Sideswipe laughed.

“It’s not  _ that bad,  _ Sunny,” He said, leaning forward. “Primus, you would have hated it here before we got the space bridge working again. We didn’t even have washracks. If we wanted to get the dirt off, we had to crawl through a car wash!”

Sunstreaker pulled another, more horrified face, and Knock Out snorted. “You think that’s bad? Before the cons came, we didn’t have access to many automatic car washes. It was just a bunch of humans crawling all over your plating with sponges and hoses.”

This time, even Sideswipe looked a little sick at the thought. Knock Out laughed again, covering his mouth with one servo.

“How did you  _ survive?” _ the red twin asked, seemingly equal parts disgusted and intrigued. “I’m gonna be honest, the thought of that kinda makes me wanna hurl.”

“It was easy,” The medic admitted. “Everything was easy on Earth, because I had Breakdown.”

Knock Out could almost feel the temperature between them plummet, despite being lightyears away from the twins. The two younglings exchanged uncertain glances, clearly conversing with one another privately. When they turned back they looked concerned enough that Knock Out sat up straight, as if preparing to have bad news broken to him.

“About that,” Sideswipe began, glancing at his brother again, his uncertainty still in place.

“What’s wrong?” Knock Out asked with alarm, looking between them, “What’s happened?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s— nothing’s wrong, Knock Out,” Sunstreaker said, his discomfort visible. “We just— how are  _ you  _ doing? I know we sort of left you alone at a bad time…”

Knock Out blinked owlishly. “What—”

“Do you want us to come back? You’re not like, working yourself to death, are you? Bee says you used to do that a lot.” Sideswipe said, as if simply abandoning the whole operation on Earth and returning to Cybertron just to make him feel better was the simplest thing to do.

“No, I—” Knock Out tried, holding his servos up as if to physically slow the two down.

“Or drinking? Ratchet said you used to drink a lot when you weren’t working. You’re not, are you?” Sunstreaker asked. Knock Out was sure it sounded much more concerned in the young speedster’s mind.

“No.” he assured, folding his legs back up in front of himself. “I promise, everything is—”

“Knock Out?” Breakdown called from where he was stopped in the doorway to the hall, concern on his faceplates. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe both craned their helms and leaned to try and see who it was when the medic glanced over his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“Oh!” Knock Out said, sitting up straight again in surprise. “Breakdown! Come here.”

“ _ Breakdown?”  _ The twins parroted in a unison that was almost eerie. The big mech approached with an air of uncertainty, rounding the couch and sitting down next to the speedster when he patted the seat beside him. 

“Boys,” Knock Out said, looking between the monitor and Breakdown quickly, a smile on his face. “I’d like you to meet my conjunx endura, Breakdown of Vestus III.”

For a moment, it didn’t seem to connect with the twins. They blinked at the screen uncomprehendingly— as if Knock Out had suddenly begun speaking another language they were unfamiliar with, or the connection between them had faltered just enough to garble his words. The introduction hung in the air for an uncomfortably long time before a slow grin split Sunstreaker’s face.

“ _ No way!” _ He exclaimed in disbelief. Beside him Sideswipe seemed to catch on, grinning something brilliant to match his brother. “They woke him up!”

Knock Out nodded, unable to keep from smiling as he reached over to grab Breakdown’s hand and thread their fingers together. “They did.”

The twins scrambled forward toward the screen, yanking at one another to try and get the first  _ real  _ look at their other guardian. Breakdown fidget where he sat, glancing at Knock Out with uncertainty as the twins began to assault the two of them with a barrage of questions.

“How long have—”

“We’ve heard so much about you—”

“ — want to meet you for—” 

“ — so glad you’re—” 

“ — soon as possible!”

“ — know about us?”

Breakdown raised his free hand and waved slowly, more than a little confused by the situation. 

“Uh… hi.” He said quietly, glancing at Knock Out again. “Nice to meet you.”

Knock Out leaned into his side, his smile still firmly in place as he pointed at the screen. 

“Breakdown, this is Sideswipe and Sunstreaker of Kaon. They’re twins.” Knock Out explained with just a hint of trepidation. Breakdown nodded, looking between the two younglings on the screen and Knock Out as if it would help him understand the situation better. 

“He doesn’t  _ know?!”  _ Sideswipe balked, flopping back down into his chair. Sideswipe slugged him in the shoulder as he sat down as well, frowning at his brother.

“We’ve been a little busy. When he went into stasis, Cybertron was uninhabitable.” Knock Out said, frowning at Sideswipe as well. “I would have told him if I didn’t think it would have overwhelmed him.”

Sideswipe grumbled, but seemed otherwise appeased by the explanation, and Knock Out turned to look at Breakdown once more. When he did, Breakdown looked back at him, his expression confused but not anxious.

“While you were… away,” Knock Out explained slowly, cycling a vent, “I—  _ we — _ became their legal guardians.”

Breakdown looked at him seriously for a moment, his golden optics flittering over the shorter mech’s face as if looking for the punchline. Knock Out rubbed the bruiser’s knuckles with his thumb soothingly as he processed the new information, blinking and squinting in confusion. 

“What?” Breakdown asked, as if he truly didn’t understand the situation, his alarm quickly rising. “What?  _ What?” _

Knock Out let the big mech’s hand slip free as he stood up, looking at the screen and then back at the medic. On the monitor behind him, Knock Out saw the twins exchange worried glances. Breakdown’s hands curled into fists at his sides and his face twisted with emotion, prompting Knock Out to climb to his pedes as well. 

“Breakdown, I— “ He said softly. Before he could continue, Breakdown lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Knock Out, crushing the shorter mech to his chassis and burying his face between the red mech’s neck and shoulder guard. His big frame trembled as Knock Out held him, his vents hitching and stalling as he fought to get control of his emotion. 

“Are you okay?” Knock Out asked quietly, trailing one hand over Breakdown’s collar fairing soothingly and sending a reassuring glance toward the two anxious younglings watching them.

“ _ Okay!? _ ” Breakdown barked, pulling far enough away from Knock Out that he could see the red mech’s face. “Knock Out, I’m  _ better  _ than okay! We have a  _ family! _ ”

Knock Out laughed, pushing up on his pedes to drop a kiss on the stunticon’s chinplate. “I sort of figured you’d feel that way, but I think you might have scared them.”

Breakdown blinked owlishly, then spun toward the screen. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had scooted closer together, their fingers threaded together and their expressions hardened into something defiant— something Knock Out hadn’t seen on Sunstreaker’s face in what felt like a long time. They looked past Breakdown to Knock Out, searching for some sign that their time as a family was not coming to an abrupt end.

“I’m sorry,” Breakdown offered quietly. He scrubbed at his face for a moment, and when he looked back up he smiled something wobbly at them. “I’ve wanted a family for a really long time, but the way the war was going… I figured I would never get the chance.”

The smiles that lit their faces then was something Knock Out would never forget. 

* * *

II

* * *

As time passed, Breakdown— patient, resilient,  _ wonderful  _ Breakdown— began to return to himself. The cognitive dissonance that had perplexed him began to fade, leaving a sort of insatiably earnest curiosity in its wake; the lights and sounds of the world outside their loft apartment were like a siren song, plucking at the strings of the bruisers mind and coaxing him to spend his time gazing out at the bustling cityscape of Upper Kaon. 

Knock Out didn’t mind, of course. It was rare for Breakdown to stray from whatever room Knock Out was in, often turning from the transparisteel several times to ask about something he’d seen or heard with a guilelessness that was just as charming as it had always been. The surgeon would wander over and inspect whatever anomaly his conjunx had spotted— usually something mundane, which would have been perfectly normal to see on Cybertron before the war— before explaining its purpose as best he could to the big blue center of his universe, pressing a kiss against whatever plating he could reach, and returning to whatever he was doing. 

It was comfortable. It felt like home— like everything they were ever supposed to have— and Knockout knew that it was only going to get better as Breakdown progressed. 

The peace was a tentative thing, though, and Breakdown was sensitive to even the smallest changes in Knock Out's mood, even when the speedster did his best to conceal them. It made sense, though; They had been best friends for millions of years before finally getting together, and no one knew Knock Out the way Breakdown did. Even before the stunticon had been put into stasis it had been hard for the red mech to hide anything from him, and it was silly to assume that less than a decade apart would have changed that. 

“What are you thinking about?” the stunticon asked as if on cue, pulling Knock Out from his thoughts as he turned from where he stood silhouetted by the doors to the balcony. 

The speedster hummed a laugh and smiled. “You, of course. What else?”

“I should have figured as much,” Breakdown huffed affectionately, crossing the space between them and lowering himself down onto the plush couch beside the surgeon. “You’re making that face.”

“Ah, yes. The infamous face that everyone loves to tell me about.” Knock Out said, hoisting himself up on his arms and pivoting so he could lean against the other mech’s side. Breakdown draped his arm around the speedster, tugging him that much closer.

“Whacha doin’?” He asked, once Knockout had made himself comfortable against him. The red mech glanced down at his datapad and scrolled up so that Breakdown could see the information at the top of the page.

“House shopping.” He said, handing the device over so the truck could scrutinize the listing. He watched his conjunx squint at the data, skimming through it with an ease born of practice. After a moment, he asked, “What do you think of that one?”

“It’s pretty nice,” Breakdown began, offering the datapad back to the speedster slowly, a confused look on his face, “But why do we need to move?”

Knock Out took the datapad back and marked the page, then navigated to the folder full of options he’d saved and transferred the display from his datapad to the vidscreen mounted to the wall opposite the couch. 

“We’ll need more space than this if we’re going to be guardians.” Knock Out explained softly, glancing over at the big mech. “Plus, I want you to have your own space, as well. You’ve never gotten to have your own room, have you?”

Breakdown frowned at the screen for a moment. “No, but I don’t want to have my own room. I like sharing a room with you.”

“I like sharing a room with  _ you,  _ too, but they’re not mutually exclusive. I just want you to have the option for privacy if you ever needed it.” The speedster soothed, patting Breakdown on the leg and scrolling through the listings he’d saved idly. 

Breakdown seemed mollified, though Knock Out could tell the big mech didn’t fully understand the concept. Even after millions of years of war he could still be so naive about things, and in a way Knock Out found it charming; then again, there was very little about Breakdown that Knock Out  _ didn’t  _ find charming in one way or another. 

The next few hours were spent going over every proverbial square inch of every offer that the medic had bookmarked, scrutinizing the pictures and discussing the pros and cons of each. There was a wide array of styles available for housing, from one and two-floor suites within tall hab complexes, to towering aeries designed for the comfort of fliers, to squat one-story condominium style houses, and even grand mansions that sprawled along the fringes of Cybertron’s many natural wonders. 

It was shortly after Knock Out decided that neither the mansions nor the aeries were a good fit for their family that they took their first break. The afternoon had wend its way on toward evening and the warm light of dusk had begun to spill across the polished floors when Knock Out stretched and draped himself over Breakdown’s legs, announcing with all certainty that it was time for them to order dinner.

Ordering dinner meant time to burn, because neither were very interested in getting back to work when they’d need to stop again so soon to answer the door and eat. 

Time to burn,  _ obviously,  _ meant time to spend goofing around— so that’s what they did.

Knock Out pushed himself up onto his hands and tilted his helm back, pressing kisses to the underside of Breakdown’s jaw softly. Breakdown glanced at him from where he had been finalizing his order on the vid screen and huffed a laugh, smiling something wobbly down at his conjunx.

“I thought you said you were hungry.” Breakdown accused, though there was no heat to it. 

Knock Out laughed, running the digits of his closer hand down the line of the blue mech’s throat until he reached collar fairing. “I don’t hear you complaining.”

“You won’t, either.” Breakdown assured, craning his helm and leaning forward to capture Knock Out’s mouth in a proper kiss. Knock Out lingered in it for a moment— reveled in it— before pulling back slowly, the blue mech following after him in an attempt to reconnect. 

“In a hurry?” Knock Out chuckled, pressing their forehelms together. Breakdown’s engine rumbled as he shifted until he leaned over the speedster, bracketing him with his arms.

“To kiss you again, always.” he admitted, his optics roving over Knock Out’s face with a familiar intensity— as if he was committing each and every inch of the speedster’s frame to memory whenever he saw him. “I have a lot of missed time to make up for.”

“Oh?” the medic said, inclining his helm to plant a chaste kiss on the bigger mech’s lips, “Best get to it, then.”

It was Breakdown’s turn to laugh then, the purr of his engine sending Knock Out’s sensor net alight as the Stunticon closed in, trailing a line of kisses up the speedsters neck and along the curve of his jaw. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Knock Out tilted his helm back and hummed a sigh, granting Breakdown better access to the soft plating of his neck. Breakdown didn’t hesitate to take full advantage of the offer, ghosting kisses along one of the primary energon lines of the speedster’s throat as his big hands roved over the medic’s smooth plating, tracing the sleek curves and planes of his conjunx’s kibble. 

Knock Out slid his hands up along Breakdown’s flank slowly, following the geometric angles of the bigger mech’s armor up to his shoulders and memorizing every nick and gouge along the way. 

“I missed you.” He murmured when Breakdown straightened up enough to make optical contact again. The big mech lowered himself down on his arms until he was half-laying on the speedsters legs, his face pressed against Knock Out’s smooth ventral plating. 

“I’m sorry.” Breakdown offered, his tone remorseful. Knock Out lifted his servo and cupped Breakdown’s cheek, petting along the curve of his cheek with his thumb.

“I forgive you.” Knock Out said with complete certainty, scoffing softly. “It isn’t like you  _ asked  _ to be maimed by some eight-legged freak.”

Breakdown snorted, muffling his laughter against the doctor’s abdominals. Knock Out smiled and set his hand on the big mech’s helm, thumbing over his crest fondly. 

“I’m just glad you’re back.” he announced finally, pushing himself up on his arms again. Breakdown followed suit, and they met for another kiss that was cut short by the sound of the admission chime ringing. 

Breakdown sat back on his heels and glanced toward the doors, reaching up to scratch at the back of his helm. “That’d be dinner.”

Knock Out flopped backward into the couch and covered his face with his hands, groaning dramatically for a moment. Breakdown watched him without comment, and Knock Out new better than to fear finding judgement in his expression. The chime rang again and with another groan, Knock Out stood and began to make his way across the room. 

* * *

“I don’t know,” Breakdown started, shifting in place where he sat partially wrapped around the speedster, “These are all… kinda  _ big.” _

Knock Out glanced at Breakdown, whose helm was resting on the medic’s smooth pauldron. “What do you mean?”

The Stunticon fiddled with his energon thoughtfully. “Well, I mean, if it’s just gonna be the four of us, do we really need a whole penthouse suite? I think we could probably fit everyone in an apartment a little bigger than this one.”

Knock Out blinked. “The four of us?”

“Yeah,” Breakdown said, counting on his fingers. “You, me, Sunstreaker, and Sideswipe.”

“Oh!” Knock Out exclaimed, lurching forward and on to his feet. “Oh, Primus. I forgot to tell you.”

Breakdown frowned something considerate, pooling his hands in his lap. “Tell me what?”

Knock Out turned in a circle and set his energon down, suddenly frazzled. When he was done, he turned back to breakdown and tapped his lip plates with the side of his digit. “I told you that I had to work in the prison, right?”

Breakdown nodded slowly, a wary look on his face. “Yeah? You mentioned it a few times, at least.”

Knock Out tipped his helm to the side briefly in a strange sort of nod. “Yes. Well.”

He sat down beside Breakdown this time, gathering one of the larger mech’s servos in his own.

“While I was there, I had to do medical evaluations for all of the inmates.” He hesitated briefly, rubbing the back of the stunticon’s servo with his thumbs. He took a big invent, then continued. “Motormaster was there. He was arrested on Earth’s moon by Bumblebee’s team— Including Sideswipe.”

Breakdown seemed to tense all at once, the mere mention of his former leader’s name filling him with a sense of apprehension he couldn’t shake— like talking about the mech would somehow summon Motormaster to their home.

“Did he hurt you?” Breakdown asked seriously, leaning forward to cup Knock Out’s face in the servo the medic wasn’t holding. Knock Out leaned his face into the touch, smiling wanly at his conjunx; neither time nor distance had lessened the hold that Motormaster had on Breakdown, it seemed.

“He didn’t get the chance.” Knock Out assured gently, “And I wasn’t alone.”

Breakdown relaxed, but it was only very slightly. He pulled his hand away, instead wrapping it around one of Knock Outs while he waited for the other to continue.

“He gathered another combiner.” Knock Out explained, his expression solemn. “It’s still under formal investigation, but the four mechlings he gathered have all given reports that they were each abducted right after being sparked, and immediately subjected to combiner conversion.”

“Kids.” Breakdown swore, his engine growling in his frustration, “He hurt  _ kids. _ How many?”

“There are four that are still alive and in protective custody until the cops can finish following up on all the leads they provided, and at least seven bodies have been recovered. I don’t know much beyond that, the case is confidential.”

“Can he get out?” Breakdown asked, gazing intensely at his conjunx. Knock Out could see a stormy determination brewing in his optics. “Do you know how they have him locked up?”

“I personally spoke to the warden about the problem. He’s in solitary confinement under constant supervision, waiting for his trial.” Knock Out assured. “He won’t be getting away with things anymore.”

“I should have killed him when I had the chance!” The stunticon all but snarled. After a moment of stewing in his anger, he looked back up at Knock Out, his expression now more fervid than anything. “The kids— how do I help them? What can I do?”

“See, that’s the part I forgot to tell you.” He explained with a bashful laugh, “I might have, ah…  _ also  _ signed papers to take custody of them once they’re released.”

Breakdown blinked. Twice. His optics fell from Knock Out’s face to where their servos lay tangled together. Knock Out was able to track each emotion as it wend its way from Breakdown’s spark to his face; first came confusion, which gave way slowly to realization, then shock, disbelief, and finally wonder. He glanced back up at Knock Out quickly, a wobbly smile plastered over his face. It was the kind of smile that meant the stunticon was doing his absolute best not to get his hopes up and failing miserably.

“Really?” Breakdown asked hopefully, scooting just a touch closer— close enough that their legs were pressed against one another. Knock Out laughed, cupping Breakdown’s face with his free hand and leaning forward to plant a series of tiny kisses over his cheek. 

“Really.” He confirmed gently, smiling at the big mech as he pulled back, “You’re going to be guardian to six whole mechlings. Five of them are even in gestalts, so they’ll probably come to you looking for help.”

Breakdown sort of jolted, pulling his arms close to his chest for just a brief moment before lunging forward and wrapping his arms around Knock Out as best he could for the angle, slotting their mouths together enthusiastically. Knock Out laughed and pressed into the kiss, relaxing back into the mound of soft cushions they’d pushed to the end of the couch earlier. 

The stunticon pushed himself up on his arms , bumping their forehelms together and beaming down at the speedster. His smile was a wholly beautiful thing— an expression of pure elation that had been scarce during the war. Knock Out could count the times he’d seen it on one servo but every instance was especially protected in his memory banks, stored within the deepest levels of his processor beyond even where his basic functions lay.

In the event of a catastrophic processor failure, Knock Out would sooner let his spark forget how to spin than allow himself to forget Breakdown— even for a moment. 

“We’re gonna be a family,” Breakdown breathed, coolant pooling at the corners of his optics. “We’re gonna be guardian to six whole mechs.”

Knock Out smiled up at him with an all encompassing, boundless sort of love, and gently swiped away his tears before they could fall. 

“I love you,” Breakdown said seriously, like making Knock Out understand how much he adored him was the most important thing in the world. “I love you so much!”

Knock Out’s response— whatever it was— was muffled by Breakdown’s mouth.

* * *

III

* * *

The morning was serene. 

Gentle light spilled into the living room through the tiny gaps in the curtains, making things seem comfortable and homey despite the lack of personal effects that had once decorated the space. Knock Out moved around the room, humming while he double-checked this and that storage compartment for any leftover items. He gleamed in the warm morning light, radiant as ever, and Breakdown smiled as he watched the speedster work.

After a moment, Knock Out turned and came closer to the table once more, picking up his half-finished cube of energon and taking a swig. After a moment he slowly lowered his cube and looked Breakdown up and down with a curious expression.

“Are you alright?” he asked gently, setting his cube on the table once more. “You’ve been pretty quiet all morning.”

“I’m okay,” Breakdown said, looking back down into his lap where he’d set the cloth he’d been using to buff his servos. “Just a little nervous, is all.”

Knock Out tilted his helm and slid down onto the sofa beside Breakdown. “What’s got you worried?”

Breakdown shrugged slightly as he picked up the cloth and continued to rub little circles over the back of his servo. “I’m just… afraid they won’t like me very much.”

Knock Out leaned against him gently and wrapped an arm around his back, stroking the plating of his flank thoughtfully. Breakdown relaxed slightly, grounded by his conjunx’s proximity.

“It would be easy for me to tell you that they’ll love you, but I know that wouldn’t fix anything,” the speedster mused softly, “I think it’s better if we just wait and see what happens. Sound good?”

The bigger mech huffed a laugh, checked his servo for any more blemishes, then stashed the cloth in his subspace. “Sounds great.”

Knock Out leaned over and kissed Breakdown’s cheek, then gathered himself to his pedes and moved across the room. Breakdown watched as he poked through the contents of a duffle bag studiously, checking and rechecking that he’d collected the last of his things. When he was satisfied that he’d forgotten nothing, he zipped the bag up and dropped it into his subspace. Breakdown rose as he approached, and together, they both checked the apartment over for anything they might have missed, took one last look around for posterity, then headed out the door.

The sun shone brightly on the streets of Kaon outside, glinting off the shining finishes of the pedestrians that were scattered here and there. Breakdown squinted and shielded his optics with a servo, following behind the medic as they reached the edge of the street, dropped down into their alt modes and merged into traffic.

The roads weren’t too busy considering it was a weekend, and they were unimpeded as they followed the great, sunsoaked overpass that would lead them toward Central Kaon and the Space Bridge Nexus there. Breakdown had been on several trips with Knock Out since he had woken up, but he was somehow still enchanted with the idea of driving on a  _ real  _ Cybertronian street with  _ real  _ Cybertronians. It was something he had never hoped to see.

Downtown Kaon glittered below them, filled with high-rise habitation towers, busy shopping centers and big office buildings, all filled with citizens enjoying their days off, or working hard to keep the plates of their burgeoning society spinning. It, too, was a thrilling sight for Breakdown— a sort of unfathomable thing he had only really dreamt about before. On their first few trips out, it had taken all of his self control not to stop in the middle of traffic in order to gawk at the sights the city provided. 

It was easier now, though, and he only spent a few moments enjoying the sight as they passed it. They merged left at a fork and took the ramp downward, following the dog-leg curve until it let them out a few mechanometers north of Kaon Plaza. The plaza was fully restored now, all the statues returned to their rightful places and polished to a fine shine, the streets clean and the reflecting pools still and glasslike. It was beautiful despite how strange it felt to see Optimus Prime’s likeness looming over him. 

Adjusting to life without the war was a process.

The plaza was a touch busier than the autostrada had been, but not by much. Since so much still needed to be done to see Cybertron restored very few people were working on off-world assignments, and so most traffic was for the Hall of the High Council rather than the Space Bridge Nexus— and once they had made it far enough in the roundabout to reach the Nexus, the traffic had thinned out considerably. 

The Nexus had taken over what used to be the Cybertronian History Museum, a squat building with a decorative-double spire above its entryway that jutted up into the sky like the mandibles of a massive insecticon. Its exterior was plated with gold, silver, and bronze, a touch tarnished but otherwise intact. Above the doors, mounted on a small archway that echoed the design of the spire above it, was a golden disk that sparkled in the sunlight It was engraved with an unobtrusive diagram of what many probably thought to be a generic eight-planet solar system, with each planet represented by a tiny, polished gem.

Breakdown paused a moment to admire the bluish shine of the gem that was third- closest to the sun as he transformed before skipping up over the curb and taking Knock Out’s hand.

The inside of the building was unimpressive for the most part, now that the artefacts from the museum had been moved out to the new building downtown; the help desks were still staffed and there were still guards monitoring things, but otherwise it lacked the busyness it had as the Museum.

There were a few handfuls of people here and there waiting for friends and loved ones to arrive or depart, teachers and squad leaders briefing students on the rules before they headed off to wherever they were going together.

In reality, the Nexus was mostly provisionary, with only one groundbridge and one spacebridge operational. Thankfully, the need to move between planets was also provisionary at best, which meant there was little demand for the facility to expand. What space there was in the building was more than accommodating, with comfortable seating areas to wait at and cyclical halls to keep visitors from getting lost. 

Knock Out and Breakdown walked through the gathering of people scattered here and there toward the back of the building, and the warehouse-like storeroom that had been sequestered there for the use of the spacebridge. With a little effort they perched themselves against the wall opposite of the portal watching patiently— if not a bit nervously on Breakdown’s part— as the operator worked studiously to rotate it through its appointed connections. 

Mechs and femmes came and went in little waves, walking casually through the vortex in groups of twos and threes with enough ease that the uninitiated might think they had been doing it for millenia. Knock Out absently wondered what Breakdown thought of the scene; while the war had guaranteed he was no stranger to spacebridges in general, he hadn’t been around to see a nexus before The Fall, when bridging had been the primary means of travel for Cybertronians. 

Before he could ask, the big mech suddenly tensed beside him, his servo tightening around the speedster’s own. Knock Out’s optics swung around the room in an instinctive search for danger, but instead stilled as they fell upon the subject—  _ subjects  _ of Breakdown’s fixation. At the top of the ramp, bracketed by the angular sleds of the spacebridge, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe stood side by side. Knock Out’s spark pulsed warmly at the sight and he smiled, stepping forward and tugging Breakdown’s hand in a silent request for the blue mech to follow him.

Of course, Breakdown followed. He stumbled numbly after the speedster, his face slack in a sort of speechless shock, as if the reality of the situation had only just now set in. Slowly, it gave way to indecision, each of his strides growing shorter and heavier, dragging Knock Out to a stop in front of him.

“Knock Out,” He said as the shorter mech turned toward him, concern plastered over his faceplates. He gave another faltering glance up the aisle to the pair of mechs, then looked back at his conjunx, dipping his helm. “What… what if this is a mistake?”

The speedster’s concern melted away, replaced instead by a look that was almost painfully loving.

“Darling,” Knock Out said gently, lifting his free servo to cup Breakdown’s cheek. “This is no mistake. Just wait until you see their faces when they see us coming.”

Breakdown didn’t seem very mollified. He shifted uncomfortably. “How can you be sure? What if they don’t like me?”

“They’ll love you, Breakdown, I promise.” Knock Out soothed, “But if it would make you feel better, you can wait for us by the doors.”

Conflicted, the big blue mech seemed to waffle between his options, glancing back toward the doors they had entered through and then up toward the line where the twins had queued before finally hanging his helm and pulling away slightly. He mumbled— or perhaps, more accurately,  _ grunted—  _ a soft affirmative noise, then turned and began to trudge his way back up the aisle toward the entryway. Knock Out watched after him for a moment, then turned and worked his way down the row and around a corner made of fancy rope barriers.

Positioned to one side of the rope alley was a table, next to which sat a security mech who was charged with double checking the documentation issued to all returning interstellar travelers. Several pseudo-booths were set up in a line across the room, though only three were manned due to the relatively low traffic through the bridge at this time of day. By the time Knock Out made his way to the exit of the processing area, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had moved up the line far enough that they stood on the far side of the table from one of the guards. The golden twin was watching his brother, unamused, as Sideswipe shoved random assortments of junk back into his subspace from where he had piled it in Sunstreaker’s waiting arms while looking for his documentation.

When the last piece had been stashed the red twin straightened up, shrugging apologetically at Sunstreaker as their credentials were run through a database and quickly cleared of any tags that might mark them unfit for immediate return. Knock Out waved to them from his spot at the end of one of the unused tables, and upon noticing him they both brightened considerably, waving back with undeniable excitement as they jogged over.

Breakdown might have felt better if not for the fact that he couldn’t recall  _ anyone  _ who wasn’t excited to talk to Knock Out the first dozen or so times. At least, not anyone who actually  _ mattered. _

Then, as if on cue, the surgeon gestured in the blue mech’s direction, and two pairs of optics swung up towards him. Before he even had time to doubt himself, or Knock Out, or the decision to come here at all, both of them stretched up and waved at him and began to hurry towards him. They noticed one another just as quickly, latching on to the kibble of their respective twin in an attempt to slow the other down— as if being the first to get to him was the prize at the end of some unknowable race.

Fortunately for Breakdown— or perhaps  _ unfortunately;  _ he wasn’t quite sure, to be honest— they were rather evenly matched in terms of speed. Based on the ruthless way Sideswipe braced against his brother with both servos and  _ shoved  _ just as they passed a delivery mech towing a hover-dolly stacked with datapads, the same could not be said about  _ sportsmanship.  _

Sunstreaker, who hadn’t expected such an underhanded tactic, toppled over the cart sideways, upturning it and scattering its contents across the floor. Breakdown heard him shout curses after the red twin, who looked so absolutely pleased with himself as he closed in that he couldn’t help but snort. Sideswipe slowed to a stop in front of him, tossing his head in Sunstreaker’s general direction. 

“What can I say? He’s my kid brother, I gotta remind him who’s boss now and again.” He declared proudly. Breakdown snorted again despite himself.

“Well, that’s one way to do it. Sideswipe, right?” He asked.   


“The one and only!” the red youngling crowed, striking a flexing pose that— when considering how much smaller he was than Breakdown— made him look absolutely silly. When he felt he had shown off enough, he held a servo out to the taller mech. “You’re Breakdown, yeah?”

An enraged howl cut Breakdown off before he could answer, and Sideswipe barely had the chance to turn and catch sight of the streak of yellow barreling towards him before Sunstreaker shoulder-tackled him, sending him slamming into the wall a few steps behind Breakdown. He stumbled to the left a few feet then stopped, bracing himself beside the door. 

“I probably deserved that,” He admitted slowly, nodding to himself. Sunstreaker squinted at him angrily from overtop his shoulder kibble, but didn’t dignify the remark with a response. Instead, he glanced up at Breakdown and smiled something much less self assured than his brother’s expression had been.

“Sorry for him. He gets a little unruly if you don’t perform percussive maintenance sometimes. I’m sure you know how it is.” He said, holding out his hand in much the same way Sideswipe had. “I’m Sunstreaker of Kaon.”

The taller mech glanced between the two of them slowly, then over at Knock Out’s approaching form, before taking Sunstreaker’s servo and shaking it. “Uh… Breakdown. Vestus III.”

Sunstreaker smiled again, this time a much more honest thing. “Glad to see you up and moving. Knock Out’s told me a lot about you, I’m—” He stopped, pausing long enough that Breakdown felt anxiety creeping at the edges of his spark, but only slightly before he continued. “Thanks for, uh… Thanks for thinking we’re good enough.”

“Are you  _ kidding? ‘Good enough’?”  _ Knock Out balked, draping one arm over Sunstreaker’s shoulders and the other around Breakdown’s waist. “He’s  _ over the moons  _ with you kids. He was afraid you weren’t going to like  _ him.” _

Sunstreaker blinked something owlish at the shorter of his adoptive guardians, then at his brother— who had warily come just close enough that he was out of the golden mech’s immediate grabbing range— before both of them looked at Breakdown with confusion. Breakdown, for his part, echoed the emotion right back at them, unsure of how either of them might find flaws in themselves. 

“I can say with great certainty and authoritativeness that _all three of you_ are wrong, however.” Knock Out said, patting the golden mech affectionately. “It just so happens that _my_ family is **_filled_** with wonderful and gorgeous mechs, old and new alike.”

“ _ Knock Out,” _ Sideswipe said with coquettish flattery, pressing a servo over his spark. “I’m so glad to hear you’ve finally come to terms with your age!”

The ex-seeker froze for a split second, before the affectionate look he had been directing at the red twin was quickly replaced with something offended. Breakdown couldn’t help himself, laughing in an expression of both shock and relief. Sideswipe danced backward and out of Knock Out’s reach as the older speedster lunged forward after him, shooting a performatively betrayed look over his shoulder at Breakdown’s laughter as he chased the shorter mech out the door and down the hall. 

Sunstreaker jogged out into the hall behind them, popping up onto the tip of his pedes to watch as they wound their way through the crowds, cupping his servos around his mouth long enough to shout encouragement to his twin before dropping back down onto his heels, snickering to himself. 

Breakdown hesitated in the doorway, watching uncertainly as the two red mechs disappeared around the far corner. Sunstreaker beckoned him over when he turned back, and— with his anxiety adequately soothed— Breakdown stepped out the door. 

“We’d better go after them,” Sunstreaker said, in an apparently good mood despite not really  _ smiling.  _ It was something Breakdown was learning to identify now that the War was more or less over. He nodded, and the two of them started off down the hall together in an amiable silence. 

Amiable, but shortlived.

Breakdown had spent enough time dreading being stared at in his life,  _ fearing it,  _ that he was more than familiar with how it felt. 

And so, when Sunstreaker’s eyes kept wandering up to him as they walked, he hazarded a guess.

“Something on your mind?” He asked, hoping it didn’t sound as awkward and forced to Sunstreaker as it did to himself. Sunstreaker looked away immediately, shrugging. 

“Kinda.” He acquiesced finally. Breakdown hummed as they rounded the corner that the two red mechs had sped around earlier. 

“Anything  _ wrong?”  _ He asked, doing his best to sound nonchalant. Sunstreaker shook his head, stepping to one side to allow a rather large group of students pass them.

“No, not… nothing’s  _ wrong.”  _ he explained haltingly, seemingly struggling to find the words he wanted. “I just… You were afraid we wouldn’t like you?”

Breakdown nodded again after a moment, glad that when he looked down into Sunstreaker’s face, he didn’t feel quite as uncomfortable as he might have with a stranger. He knew that wards often felt more connected to guardians who made optical contact with them— or so the journals he’d been reading had claimed.

“Why wouldn’t we like you?” the younger mech continued, stopping Breakdown up short. 

“I’m not…” He trailed off uncertainly. Wasn’t what? What did he even find so lacking when looking into his spark that he found himself eternally unfit to exist in any roll? He didn’t know— and in lieu of any deep answer, he shrugged. “Why would you think you and your brother aren’t good enough for me?”

Either because he didn’t expect the question or because he didn’t know how to answer it, Sunstreaker hesitated for a beat or two, gamely keeping pace with his guardian despite having to take two steps for each of Breakdown’s heavy strides.

“I don’t know.” He finally admitted, gesturing weakly. “I mean, we’re just a couple nobody street-rats. We can’t really do anything like skilled labor or paperwork, so we can’t really get jobs, either. We’re barely worth the metal we’re made out of.” He explained, knocking his fist against his chest plate. 

Breakdown looked at the shorter mech with no small amount of intensity as they waited in line to exit the building. Sunstreaker must have noticed something strange about the silence, because he looked up after a moment, meeting the taller mech’s gaze with a frown.

“Never say that about yourself. Even if I  _ didn’t  _ think the world of you— which I  _ do—  _ you’re worth so much beyond that. Both of you are.” Breakdown chided gently. After a moment he looked away, frowning as well, pressing down the fear that he might have made things awkward and instead pushing onward as they stepped through the door together. “Besides— you don’t need to have skills or be  _ somebody.  _ Nobody starts off as  _ somebody.” _

Sunstreaker huffed, but it was in a good-natured sort of way. He glanced up at the taller mech out of the corner of his optics, cracking a half-smile. “ _ Knock Out _ started as  _ somebody.” _

“No, believe it or not, he started out as a spark from the well too. They had to  _ build  _ him a body, just like everyone else.” Breakdown said without skipping a beat. 

Someone groaned to their left just then, and they turned in time to see Sideswipe drag his servos down his face as he and Knock Out approached. 

“Oh,  _ frag no,”  _ Sideswipe cursed, turning dramatically toward the surgeon, “The  _ dad-joke plague.  _ We must have brought it with us from Earth! Run, Knock Out, before it gets you, too!”

“Sideswipe, I know you’re just young— just a baby, and all, like you said— but even  _ your  _ memory should be good enough to remember Breakdown and I were there  _ long  _ before you.” Knock Out shoved at the younger mech playfully. “Besides, your father’s right. The point of having guardians is for them to help you learn about the world and become the person you want to be; if you were already a skilled somebody, you wouldn’t need us.”

Breakdown nodded his agreement quietly, and despite his attempts to tamp it down, Knock Out revelled in the feeling of  _ pride/joy/excitement _ the title had sent thundering through the truck’s spark and across their bond. 

“ _ Father,”  _ Sunstreaker repeated slowly, as if testing the glyphs. After a moment, he shook his head. “No, I think  _ dad  _ works better.”

The older mechs exchanged smiles with one another briefly, then Breakdown snorted. “If I’m your dad, does that make you my sonstreaker?”

Despite himself, Sunstreaker grinned, looking down quickly to hide the expression. Sideswipe glanced from Breakdown to Knock Out seriously before setting a servo on Knock Out’s arm, hanging his helm.

“I’m sorry, Knock Out. It’s terminal.” He said somberly, his face a mask of seriousness. Knock Out barked out a laugh, shaking his helm and patting the shorter mech on the shoulder.

“Don’t be silly,” He said, ambling forward slowly and beckoning the others to follow along. “He’s had much worse and still come out swinging.”

Breakdown smirked, draping an arm over the shorter mech’s shoulders as the four of them began to head back towards downtown Kaon and the shuttle station that waited there.

* * *

Lower Kaon proper, or the  _ Lower Kaon Correctional Facility,  _ as it was now known, looked much the same as it had the last time Knock Out had been there. Having been some of the most resilient buildings on Cybertron at the time of their creation, most of the major structures had undergone repair and renovation rather than replacement, and thus— beside more of the catwalks being replaced— very little of their surroundings merited Knock Out’s attention.

The same could not be said for the rest of his family, however.

They had barely made it away from the shuttle bay before the twins had rushed to the closest railing to take in all there was to see. Breakdown followed close behind them, golden optics casting around with the same ardent intensity that they’d held the first time he had come to Kaon, so many millions of years ago. Knock Out stepped up between the three of them, thinking back to how the city  _ used  _ to be, back when they had just met. 

He was amused to find that, somehow, the memories of the city— of the acrid smoke, the blistering heat, the oceans of unfriendly faces, and mistakes both personal and professional— had become fonder. Had someone told him back then that one day he would stand at the mouth of the city, surrounded by family, and regard it fondly, he might have thought them unhinged.

But— impossibly— here he was.

Beside him, Breakdown let out a soft sound of astonishment as he shook his helm and backed away from the railing. 

“A lot different than I remember,” he explained thoughtfully, glancing over to meet the inquisitive and slightly expectant gazes of his wards. “This was the first place I ever saw on Cybertron. It was a lot more…”

“Hot?” Knock Out quipped, crossing his arms as he began to make his way down the catwalks toward the prison, the twins in tow. “Depressing? Crowded? Dirty? Crime-ridden? Impoverished?”

Breakdown snorted, shooting an affectionate look in Knock Out’s direction. “That it?”

“I could go on, but I think I’ve made my point.” the medic said, smirking back at him. 

“Wait, so this is the only jail active on Cybertron right now, right?” Sideswipe asked, hurrying forward to walk between his guardians. 

“Jail, no. Prison, yes.” Knock Out said with a nod, herding the group down a short ramp and onto another pathway. Sideswipe’s attention was briefly caught by the scenery below them— rows and rows of empty cells roughly hewn into the long-hardened crucible, lit only by the light that streamed in from the surface level above. After a beat, Knock Out asked, “Why?”

“Oh— I just wondered if this is where we send all the cons we catch back on Earth, is all.” The youngling shrugged, folding his arms behind his head. “It doesn’t look like too bad of a place. Is the staff— you know, nice?”

Sunstreaker guffawed, shoving his brother forward to take his place between the older mechs. “Don’t tell me you’re gettin’ soft for a bunch of crooks, Sideswipe! How will your cop buddies take it?”

“No! Shuddup,  _ Sunbeam _ !” Sideswipe denied immediately, turning to smack the golden mech on the shoulder as they stepped down onto the plateau the pyramidal entrance to the prison sat on. “It’s just— you know, some of them don’t really belong here. They didn’t really do anything  _ wrong.” _

Sunstreaker direct his offended gaze first at Sideswipe, then down at his pedes where the slag-gravel that covered the rim convergences scratched against his meticulously kept paint job. Before he could say anything, though, Sideswipe continued.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong! There are— er,  _ were—  _ some real messed up fraggers on the Alchemor. But a lot of them just have something wrong with ‘em they can’t really control. Scrap, a lot of them don’t even have anything wrong with them! The old council just didn’t like them so they slapped brands on their chests and sent them away.”

“Sideswipe’s right,” Breakdown confirmed, glancing between the twins thoughtfully. “Far as I know, rulers on Cybertron were always real good about that sort of thing. I heard it was hand-down from the Quintesson age. Before the war, they’d take anyone who didn’t like what they were doing and just… disappear ‘em.”

“Yes— and I’m proud of you for being able to tell the difference.” Knock Out praised, “The staff here— for the most part— is very professional. There are a few aggressive guards, but the Warden has it well in hand.”

Sideswipe twisted to regard his brother, smirking at the golden twin’s dejected pout.

“ _ Speaking of,  _ watch your language. Ultra Magnus is taking care of us personally and he’s very…” Knock Out trailed off, as if searching for the right word, swinging a probing look towards a very unthrilled looking Breakdown. “Strict?”

“Ugh,” The truck grunted, dismal at the reminder of just who it was that ran the prison. “Strict is putting it nicely. That’s another hold over from the Quint wars according to— …uh, some… friends of mine. Back in the day Magnus used to be a real riot, I guess— he was the leader of the Wreckers— but then the Autobots gentrified him.”

Knock Out patted his conjunx consolingly. “He’s loosened up since then, darling, I promise. He’s much kinder now.”

Breakdown didn’t seem very mollified, his optics fixed firmly on the ground in front of him as they approached the prison’s civilian entrance, but he grunted his assent anyway; He knew that no amount of stalling would completely spare him from having to face his past once more, whether it came in the form of Ultra Magnus or Motormaster.

It was only the thought of the younglings— his wards _ ,  _ his  _ sons,  _ fellow victims of Motormaster’s destructive abuses— that kept him moving forward despite knowing he would have to face them both. 

* * *

Breakdown had expected that meeting Magnus again, with the war and its atrocities behind him, would make him feel ashamed. He had dreaded the moment— worried how he would do what needed to be done to free the mechling Stunticons from the prison, worried what he would say, what the semi might think of him or be compelled to do to him to kill the comrades— the  _ friends  _ Breakdown had killed on Rada Mor. 

As much as he wanted to, though, he couldn’t keep himself from stealing a glance at the taller mech as they entered. 

Magnus was just as imposing as Breakdown remembered, a powerful frame home to an intimidating and commanding spark with a presence that could bring an entire battlefield to a standstill. It wasn’t as if the semi was completely unchanged; on the contrary, Breakdown could see the wear of his frame through the paint and polish. Scars covered him, sanded flat and painted over but far from invisible, with parts of his armor sitting at strange angles over his chassis in the wake of mass protoform wasting. To the untrained eye, perhaps, Magnus looked as regal and stately as Breakdown had ever seen him, but the truck did not need to look at the Autobot very long to know better.

Magnus greeted them with a respectful incline of his helm as they approached, though, and if the taller mech felt any animosity towards the stunticon, it didn’t show. He and Knock Out shook servos briskly— a uniquely human greeting that spoke of some fledgeling familiarity between them— before he turned to Breakdown and offered the same courtesy.

Clumsily, Breakdown obliged.

“Welcome back, Doctor,” The wrecker greeted Knock Out cordially. “Breakdown, good to see you on your pedes.”

Breakdown startled, beating back a compulsion to salute he had thought long dead. “Uh— thank you, um, sir.”

The corners of the semi’s lips tilted upward briefly, the expression there and gone again before Breakdown had the time to doubletake. Magnus greeted the twins with nods that were just as respectful as those he had given their guardians, raising one servo in wordless greeting.

“Welcome to the Lower Kaon Correctional Facility. As you’re probably aware, we’ve been expecting you.” 

Sunstreaker snorted, smacking his brother on the arm. “Hear that, Sides’? They got a room all set up for you and everything!”

“Don’t be stupid, I’m practically a cop.” Sideswipe rolled his optics and swatted at the golden twin, “The room’s for  _ you.” _

“I assure you, we have plenty of room for you both,” Magnus intoned mirthfully, leveling an expectant look on the two. They sobered almost immediately as the implications dawned on them, drawing guffaws out of both of their guardians as the warden turned and gestured for them to follow.

* * *

The conference room that the warden led them to was nice. Plush and comfortable looking chairs, big enough to accomodate large frames like Breakdown’s, were lined up around a polished table that held a holoconsole in the middle of it. Everything was colored with the subtle warmth of bureaucracy, all beige and cream and brown, and coupled with the diffused lighting the space felt oddly comfortable. 

Understandably, that comfort only added to the strangeness of the situation for Breakdown.

He had come to understand that he had been far from comfortable while he had stayed in the Pyramid; it was where he had learned to fight— to kill, and maim, and wound. He had taken his fair share of beatings there, had felt the harsh bite of the slag-gravel that filled the sparring pits time and time again, the sting still fresh in his mind even after so long. He had spent countless nights alone and afraid, tucked into claustrophobic corners wherever he could find them, desperate to find shelter from the prying optics of those more seasoned than he.

Granted, it had been a vacation compared to the mines of Vestus, but in the grand scheme of things he had come to recognize it for the miserable hell that it had been— and so, to now find it smothered in the staple niceties of a civilian office-space to the point of finding it comfortable was a near-tangible shock. 

Ultra Magnus swept past him and into the room, rounding the table to deposit himself in the chair at its far end. Breakdown blinked at him, startled out of his thoughts, and watched Knock Out seat himself a few placed down from Magnus. He shuffled over and sat beside his conjunx, watching distantly as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker squabbled over seats before finally planting themselves, as well. Sideswipe wound up sitting closest to him, looking rather smugly at his brother who had to take the seat on Knock Out’s left instead. 

Breakdown smiled at Sideswipe slowly, pleased by the beaming grin the mechling shot him before he turned to regard the Warden levely. He was still wary that the taller mech might want to settle old scores in some way or another, though he showed no animosity toward the ex-miner or his family as he leaned over to slide a datapad toward Knock Out. They began to speak together in low tones as the medic reviewed whatever paperwork had been reserved for the moment— and as they did, Breakdown’s attention was stolen as Sideswipe rapped his knuckles against his arm.

“So,  _ dad,”  _ The speedster began, crossing his arms over his chestplate and examining the tips of his digits nonchalantly, as if he was uninterested in the conversation. “How do you know Motormaster, anyway? Weren’t you in stasis for the past billion years or whatever?”

“ _ Sideswipe!”  _ Sunstreaker barked, jerking forward to pin his brother with an accusative glare around Breakdown’s bulky chassis, “What did I tell you about asking about war stuff?”

“What? It’s a matter of national security!” Sideswipe insisted, holding his servos up to try and placate his brother, “It’s my job as an Autobot!”

“ _ National security  _ my afterburners!” The golden mech insisted, his frown fixed firmly to his faceplates, “You act like the humans didn’t teach you any damn manners!”

“No— It’s ok,” Breakdown assured, picking up his servos and stopping both twins up short before another rebuttal could be thrown, “I don’t mind. I just figured Knock Out already told you.”

“He told  _ me, _ ” Sunstreaker offered as he reluctantly sank back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “But Sides’ was still missing back then, and… I never really brought it up to him.”

“Well, I don’t really mind telling him.” Breakdown said, nodding with understanding, watching Knock Out slide the datapad back to Ultra Magnus before the taller mech’s optics dimmed, a tell-tale sign of using internal comms. After a moment, Breakdown turned back toward Sideswipe.

“To make a long story short, he was my boss for a while.” He explained, leaning forward on his elbows. “I used to be part of Menasor, back when artificial combiners were new. I was one of the first.”

Sideswipe blinked up at him, startled. “You’re part of a combiner, too?”

“Was,” the blue mech shrugged. “A  _ long  _ time ago.”

“What do you mean by  _ artificial  _ combiner?” He asked, apparently enthralled with having a source of ‘expertise’ on the matter to question. Breakdown turned closer toward him and told him what he knew of the difference between the types, though that admittedly wasn’t much. Sideswipe seemed pleased nonetheless, sitting back in his chair when he was done with a distant look in his optics.

“Damn,” he said after a few moments, glancing back up at the big mech with a grin. “So, how weird is it gonna be to be dad to a bunch of kids your ex got to replace you?”

“Motormaster is  _ not  _ his ex,” Knock Out corrected from down the row, casting a warning glance at the shorter red mech, who only grinned cheekily in his seat. 

Breakdown couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s no weirder than being brother to a bunch of mechs you helped put in prison.”

Sideswipe’s grin vanished in a sparkbeat as the implications settled over him.

“Oh, frag.” He muttered, scrubbing at his face with his servos. “Yeah, no— no, you’ve definitely got me beat on the awkward thing…”

“Maybe not,” Breakdown reasoned, patting his charge sympathetically. “I killed a  _ whole lot  _ of Ultra Magnus’ wreckers back in the war. I don’t think much tops sitting five seats away from a guy you’ve done something like that to.”

Both twins blinked up at him with unreadable emotion in their optics— something between shocked, impressed, and horrified— but for his part, Magnus seemed unphased.

“All wars have costs, Breakdown.” The taller mech said quietly, not looking up from where he was double-checking Knock Out’s work. “Every mech there was under no illusions about their permanence. Every single one of us— Yourself included, I’m sure— were completely prepared to die. We had simply not figured that the blow would come from the inside.”

Breakdown looked at him for a long moment, then bowed his helm. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess not.”

“That being said,” Magnus continued, drawing himself up in his chair and subspacing the datapad, apparently satisfied with it’s contents. “For as aware I am of the losses we incurred that day, I am also aware that we were, perhaps, uncommonly lucky. Most of the forces had just left for the Diavion Incursion, so the base there was relatively empty. Not to mention, the charges had been set improperly, resulting in nearly no structural damage and significantly less fatalities than there might have been, had we not been so…  _ lucky.” _

The look that the warden sent him was one laden with meaning, and perhaps just a touch of warning. It was by no means a welcoming look, and easily the hardest expression that the Autobot had yet leveled him with, but it was far from a look of intent. His blue optics were probing, staring hard at Breakdown’s face almost expectantly, as if waiting for the ex-operative to understand his meaning. Beside him, Knock Out looked up at him with something close to incredulity on his features. The twins shared a confused look before they, too, added their gazes to the pile of those that Breakdown was buried under.

And just when he thought that pile would crush him, the door slid open behind them, and the tension in the room flooded out through it.

Wildbreak was the first through the door, his optics bright as they immediately locked on to Knock Out where he sat. The speedster rose to his feet in anticipation, and in a clash of plating the youngling flung himself into his newly appointed guardian’s embrace with a grin. Breakdown barely had time to catch a glimpse of him before the others entered as well, though none of them quite as energetically as Wildbreak had. 

Heatseeker and Dragstrip entered together, with the shorter mech muttering something to the taller mech animatedly. Heatseeker, for his part, did not seem too interested, but he didn’t seem bothered either, instead letting the yellow mech babble as he liked. Slashmark came behind them, his expression thoughtful but guarded all the same. 

Breakdown stood as the three came to a stop, waiting just long enough for Knock Out to shuffle past with Wildbreak in tow before heading toward the more open area of the room at the far end of the table. Behind him, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe rose as well, following with just a touch of uncertainty.

“Boys! Good to see you,” Knock Out exclaimed happily, spreading his arms out to them in a gesture of affection. “How have you been holding up?”

Slashmark took the initiative to speak for the group. “We’ve been fine. A few squabbles, mostly from boredom, but otherwise we’ve been doing well.”

“I’m glad to hear it. They’ve been treating you well?” Knock Out asked.

“As well as can be expected.” Slashmark confirmed, casting a skeptical glance toward Ultra Magnus. Knock Out smiled.

“Good. I’d hate to have to send in a strongly worded letter or six if they’d treated you badly.” He said, patting the mech. He straightened up somewhat and lifted a servo, catching the attention of the other three mechs, who had begun talking amongst themselves, apparently continuing a conversation they’d been having on the way there. 

“I think now’s a great time to introduce all of you to my conjunx,” Knock Out said, reaching over to twine his fingers with Breakdown’s and tug him further into the open. “Boys, this is Breakdown. Your guardian.”

For a moment, nothing happened, and Breakdown was once again gripped by the spark-rending fear of rejection that he was always victim to in important situations— but before it could choke him, Wildbreak whistled. 

“Wow, Knock Out wasn’t kidding! You  _ do  _ look like me!” He marveled, as if he hadn’t quite believed the doctor or the pictures he had seen. 

“He sure does,” Knock Out chuckled, squeezing Breakdown’s big hand reassuringly. Slashmark, apparently the leader of their group, raised a servo in greeting and inclined his helm at his guardian, his expression softened into something like a smile. Heatseeker followed suit, tilting his chin up at the blue mech in regard, while Wildbreak chose the much simpler route of simply throwing his arms around the ex-wrecker in a hug. Breakdown patted him softly, smiling something wobbily as the shorter mech pulled away. He glanced between them thoughtfully and nodded to himself.

“Uh— hey,” he began uncertainly, raising his servo in a mirror of Slashmark’s gesture, “It’s great to finally meet you all. Knock Out’s told me a lot about you, and I… I’m happy to be here.”

Immediately, Wildbreak hugged him again, and Slashmark’s expression inched closer to a proper smile. Standing in the middle of the group, though, Dragstrip didn’t look mollified. He frowned as he caught Breakdown’s optic.

“I’m not gonna be all  _ gushy  _ with you just cause someone said I’m  _ supposed to.“  _ he warned sharply, crossing his arms. Breakdown couldn’t help but laugh— If he could say anything, it was that Mortomaster had certainly picked up the  _ original  _ Drag Strip’s talent for detailing; the attitude, the colors, the frame— all of it painted a startling image of the Drag Strip he’d known so long ago, but so much younger.

The shorter mech prickled at the laughter. “What’s so damn funny?!”

“Nothin’,” Breakdown shook his head, gathering himself enough to show the other a smile. “Sorry for being weird. You don’t gotta like me if you don’t want to, you’re allowed. I hope I can change your mind, but it’s your decision one way or the other.”

“I thought—” Dragstrip hesitated. “I thought we were supposed to owe ya’ or something?”

“You don’t owe us anything. None of you owe us a thing.” Breakdown said, shaking his head again and looking between the six mechlings gathered around them. “That means you, too, Sideswipe. Sunstreaker.”

Sideswipe startled, then tried to hide himself behind Breakdown. Heatseeker, who’d been silent til that point, visibly piqued, straightening up and squaring his shoulders.

“ _ Sideswipe!”  _ He echoed incredulously, glancing toward Slashmark as if looking for support. “Ain’t that the fragger that put us away?  _ He’s  _ here?”

Slashmark shook his head and shoved at the offended mech’s arm. “No, Heatseeker.  _ Motormaster  _ put us away. The Autobots helped us find our way out.”

Heatseeker looked at him, holding his gaze for a long time as his hackles began to go down. Sideswipe peaked out from behind Breakdown, then around Wildbreak, who was still leaned up against their Guardian’s flank. The Stunticon shot the red mech an wary look, but didn’t make a further issue of it.

“Good!” Knock Out praised after a moment, once the tension had eased. “Now, with that out of the way, lets go get some energelato, as a family. We’re long overdue.”


End file.
